On board with cool/disease-free people

Public transportation is not a clean business. When you step on a subway car, you expect to contract any number of diseases including Hepatitis, gonorrhea, Tetanus, or Whopping Cough. I find a good way to fight off communicable disease is to wash my hands when I get to work and home - my soap claims to kill 99.6% of all bacteria, and I assume that means all bacteria in the universe. What are the chances that the 0.4% it doesn't work on are actually on this planet? I'll say small. This is my plan, and in the now more than four weeks I've been doing this, I have yet to get terribly sick. The plan works.

I've noticed, however, that others are not willing to leave their health up to something that comes in either liquid or solid form. (Pick a state of matter, soap! Don't make me swift boat you, flip flopper!) These people chose to not touch anything. And as soon as the subway gets moving, they start sliding all over the car. They assume, I presume, that those of us taking care to prevent violent movements enjoy strangers knocking into us, the feel of their sweaty skin on ours as we roll down the dark tunnel to a land of gonorrhea-free companionship.

This has to be true, or these people think they are too good for bars. "I don't need to hold on to a bar, you weak, transplanted Southern," they seem to say with their snares. "Watch as I stand in the middle of the car, holding my horrible free tabloid newspaper telling me Batman beat his mom and sistAHHHHH. Oops, I fell down. What is this liquid on my pant leg? It has to be urine or blood. God, I hope it's urine." This repeats a handful of times until they reach their destination, limp out of the subway, and scurry to their too-cool-for-me homes filled with first aid kits and penicillin to fight gonorrhea. Because, come on, when you are too cool for metal bars, you're bound to contract a disease or two somewhere.